


Iridescent

by viv_is_spooky



Series: Night Vale Vignettes [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Palmer's Fashion Sense, First Impressions, First Meeting, M/M, Non-Binary Cecil Palmer, Non-Human Cecil Palmer, One Shot, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Pre-Relationship, Short One Shot, Takes Place Just Before Episode 1, Though That’s More Implicit Not Actually Stated, Typical Night Vale Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viv_is_spooky/pseuds/viv_is_spooky
Summary: Carlos hosts his first town meeting in Night Vale. Cecil is the first to arrive.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: Night Vale Vignettes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928620
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Iridescent

**Author's Note:**

> Music Recommendation: “When I Looked Up” by We Dream of Eden

Carlos stands at a wooden podium facing the town of Night Vale, the dust molecules whispering through the air and the vast expanse of desert stretching out beyond brightly colored buildings that shimmer like mirages.

Almost nothing about this place should be possible, and yet it  _ is_. He looks down to review his introductory speech to the town, only to see the ink moving around the paper on its own accord - letters changing places, rearranging themselves in an order he never intended. An eye-shaped marking on the podium blinks at him, and he stumbles backwards in shock before stepping forwards to examine the phenomena.

What is making these solid atoms vibrate at such distinct and unusual frequencies, so they behave somewhat like liquid in movement while maintaining some kind of a shape?

Before Carlos can theorize too much, there is a hand on the podium in front of him - adorned with iridescent rings that are continuously shifting in color. He looks up into the most piercing pair of eyes he’s ever seen, framed by a cascade of long, shiny dark hair. The person in front of him tilts their head curiously to one side, elegant fingers beginning to drum against the podium. They look as if they’re trying to stare into Carlos’ soul - they are intense, otherworldly, and beautiful in a way that matches the landscape around them.

He opens his mouth to mutter a greeting, but they beat him to it. “Hello there! What brings you to our little desert community?” they hum, voice deep and sonorous as it fills the air around them.

“I’m... a scientist,” Carlos responds, hoping his voice doesn’t come out shaky. “It’s an interesting town you have here.” He gives a hesitant smile, and is rewarded with a beaming grin from his new acquaintance. Their teeth flash bright white against tan skin, and Carlos swears that for a moment he sees their eyes warm in color from deep indigo to a shade of magenta.

He holds out his hand awkwardly, unsure if the concept of handshakes even  _ exists _ in this strange place. To his relief, the person - still beaming widely, though their eyes have shifted back to deep indigo - takes his hand firmly in both of theirs. Their skin is surprisingly cool to the touch, a welcome respite from the heat waves rising up from the ground and the sun pounding down on Carlos’ head.

“Cecil Palmer, host of Night Vale Community Radio,” they announce, removing one hand from Carlos’ to make a flourishing gesture to the many purple eye insignia pins fastened to their reflective-tape tshirt (there is a loud clattering when they move, and Carlos wonders how he didn’t hear them coming sooner).

“I’m Carlos. The scientist.” Carlos is aware that he’s already said he’s a scientist. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to say it again in a steadier voice.

Speaking of, there are voices all around them now. All of which seem to be shouting “Interloper!” Carlos peeks around Cecil’s shoulders to see a crowd of people gathered in the town square that was empty a few minutes ago.

(He will soon learn that where Cecil goes, the town tends to follow.)

The newcomers to the square regard Carlos with narrowed, suspicious eyes, and he feels himself shudder involuntarily as they continue to yell.

Cecil squeezes Carlos’ hand to get his attention, muttering something about “customary greetings” and “don’t mind them” when Carlos turns to look at them again. They disentangle their hand from Carlos’ - he would say they seemed  _ reluctant _ to let go if he didn’t know any better - and walk to take a seat in the middle of the crowd.  _ Wait, where did those chairs come from? _

There’s a lot to learn about Night Vale, and a lot to be afraid of. But throughout his address to the town, Carlos doesn’t focus on fears and uncertainties. He focuses on the most solid thing he’s found so far - the presence of the friendly local community radio host, whose eyes continue to watch him intently. They are an anchor to hold onto in this ocean of hostile new faces, - strange, but not-quite a stranger anymore.


End file.
